Superbowl
by Two-Bits
Summary: Who knew the Superbowl could do that to you? Thank you, Jacky Higgins, for BETA-ing!
1. Default Chapter

"Man, I can't believe the Patriots won _again!_" I groaned, flopping back on the overstuffed, leather couch. Christine grinned triumphantly, downing half a glass of Gingerale. "Do you realize that's the _third time? _In a _row?_" I exclaimed, looking over with disgust at the oh-so-hot Tom Brady waving the trophy around. I glowered at one of the Eagles boys, and then fixed my gaze on my best friend, who was messing with her dark hair, which has a tendency to fall out of its clip.

"I told you they would win," she said, matter-of-factly, clipping the black butterfly clip onto her lower lip. "The Patriots _always_ win!" Christine added, her voice muffled by the clip. She took it off her lip and slid it through her hair. I folded my eyes, pouting jokingly.

"So? They still suck. Massachusetts, home of John Kerry. Well, Boston is, anyway," I replied, glancing back at the TV, where Brady was being tackled into a tight hug, giving me a full-blown view of his butt in those way-too-tight pants. I groaned and slapped a hand over my eyes.

"What?" Christine asked in her Do-I-Really-Want-To-Know voice. I grinned innocently, standing up to retrieve my glass of water from her kitchen.

"I just twisted the entire game of football," I said, shoving a chip in my mouth and washing it down with a mouthful of water, I turned around just in time to see Christine roll her eyes.

"Get out of my house," she said exasperatedly, shoving me into the hall. I laughed, spinning around to hug her.

"Oh, hold on!" I stepped to the left, into their living room, and grabbed the Titanic sheet music off of Christine's piano. I tipped my Yankees baseball cap to her. "I'll bring it back tomorrow," I said. "Promise."

"You'd better! If you forget, I'll have to cry," she joked, pretending to cry. "Bye!" I waved, then stepped out of her house and onto her porch.

"Au revoir!" I replied, as was my custom.

She shut the blue door, and I stood there for a moment, yawning. I had had hardly any sleep for two weeks, and I was dead tired. Mid-yawn, I turned around.

…and nearly had a heart attack.

What used to be Christine's perfectly manicured lawn, leading down to a cul-de-sac, was now a badly paved street lined with square, brick buildings. Confused, I looked around and saw the classic green and white street sign pronouncing that I was on Duane Street. Slowly, I turned back around and stared at Christine's house.

It was square and brick, nearly identical to the ones around it, and seemed to be normal, save for the fact that it was most certainly _not_ Christine's house. And, oh yeah.

The dark green sign above the door proclaimed Newsboy Lodging House.


	2. Chapter 2

Shoutouts!

Translucentflame: AHHH! DIE BOSTON! But I love you 'cause you reviewed!

TheAngryPrincess13: Ah...The Look of Death. I know it well.

Nosilla: BECAUSE I WANT TO TORTURE YOU! MUAHAHAHAHA...

Unknown-Dreams: That's the only reason anyone ever watches/plays football. It's all in the pants. -grins at not-purposeful innuendo-

andthenyouwokeup: Boo Patriots! Yay Tom Brady!

* * *

I reached out to touch the doorknob, just to make sure it was actually real. Sure enough, the brass was solid and cold beneath my fingers. Feeling my knees weaken in shock, I twisted the doorknob and pushed open the door. When I entered, the first thing I saw was... 

"_Jenny?_"

Jenny looked up with surprise. She was sitting on the couch with three newsboys, whom I recognized to be Bumlets, Jack, and Mush. She stared at me for two minutes, saying nothing. Finally, she said, "Do I know you?" I faltered; this was not the first thing I expected to come out of her mouth. I was thinking of something more like, "Hey, Tory! What the heck are we doing in nineteenth century New York?" or something like that.

"Uhm..._yeah_. It's me, Tory! You know, your weird fanfiction slasher friend who manages to enjoy heavy metal and Broadway at the same time..." Her expression did not change.

"How do you know my name?" she asked. I paused.

"You really don't know me?" She shook her head. "I frowned, and leaned against the wall, stumped. How on earth was I here in 1899 New York, and Jenny was here as well, but she didn't recognize me? "Huh. That's funny."

"How do _you_ know _me?_" I smirked, unable to resist an opportunity to freak her out.

"Jennifer Lee Merian, born June ninth. Your favorite colors are green and orange, and you like..." I paused, trying to think of something that would apply in the nineteenth century as well as the twenty-first century. "Uhm...I can't think of anything else right now." She was standing, looking terrified. I couldn't blame her, really; I'd probably freak if someone I didn't know started naming off facts about me. Mush and Jack stood up and hurried toward me, each grabbing me by the arm.

"Hey, hey! Easy, boys, I'm not a stalker or anything!" I exclaimed as Jack and Mush began dragging me out of the Lodging House. They shoved me out onto my butt and Jack snapped, "Don't come near here again!" and slammed the door.

Note to self: don't start listing facts you shouldn't know.


End file.
